Finally I've done the dishes I had left before i met you for the last time
Drops of hearty soup dried on forks and knives,
sharp and cruel like the tingling in my bones
as silent as snow covering us when
we walked in wordless violence,
side by side
now music's playing inside me
sounding exactly how I did in the empty streets on
my way to you on rainy nights
Once more, it saturates me
after a hundred years the scent will be gone
Once more, it saturates me
after a hundred years the scent will be gone
the tingling in my bones dust
the palm of your hand a mystery
